Too Perfect
by shadowkitsune-sama
Summary: Near Konoha there is a lake that Kakashi has fallen in. But it's not just a simple lake; it is a portal. It is a portal that transports Kakashi to a different realm - one that is calm, peaceful, and much much too perfect. Kakashi hates it.


_Just so you know, Madara as Tobi is mentioned briefly. But it really doesn't play a huge role to the fic._

**Too Perfect**

* * *

Kakashi stands on top of that dreadful lake; the lake that took _everything_ away from him; the lake he'd fallen through months ago. It is like a clockwork ritual by now, as he trends softly across it; lightly, gently, trying to keep the world beneath his feet from unfocusing into foggy ripples.

The world, _this world_, Kakashi emerged into, gasping for breath as he had climbed clumsily through the portal of a lake, is nothing like his own. He supposes he should called himself lucky for even being alive and breathing, recalling the pinching cold waves and toxic black claws that had dragged him down the deep, treacherous depth in the first place.

But this world is too different. There is no horror of wars; no hate; no wariness. Kakashi was greeted with a smile and genuine worry the moment his soaking feet had reached the nearest village. The citizen had crowded around him like naïve puppies, no fear and no suspicions. He was considered as family and given a place to stay in an instant.

It is a nice, peaceful world Kakashi has landed in. Everything here is perfect.

And yet, he can't help his feet, mechanically, continuously making its way back to where it all began; that damned, atrocious lake. And he can't help endlessly peering through that murky, vicious water for just a glimmer of what had once been.

Some days, if he is lucky, he'll see a glimmer of _orange, pink, and blue_ in that lake, just under the heavy black shadows of the looming trees criss-crossed above his head. And then it would disappear, like it had been nothing more than a mere illusion; a manifestation of Kakashi's burning need and desire.

He had plunged and plunged down the dark, murky waters for weeks he'd first entered this realm. Deeper and deeper into the never-ending depth. The reflection of his home glimmers under him in that lake, taunting him. He wants so much to touch what his damned mortal hands can never reach. His home is just right there - _right there! - _ but no matter how hard he tries, it is all in vain; he _never_ reaches it.

And yet he never stops trying.

The surface of the lake is Kakashi's second home; he practically _lives_ there now. Hoping, just hoping, perhaps if he's lucky, the portal will open up once more while he's there and finally bring him back.

Upon the waters, Kakashi does nothing; nothing but practicing - practicing all he knows. All he'd ever trained for. No matter how _utterly useless_ it is here in this peaceful realm. But he does so anyways because he knows it is the only thing tying him to home.

He flows across the lake, feet moving in dancing steps as the silhouettes of the trees ripple tauntingly on the lake under his sweeping feet, and the diamond reflections of his carefully preserved kunais wink sparkling lights in the secluded area. The wind cuts past his ears, loud like howling wolves calling to him – so nostalgic and such a bittersweet reminder of his old life. His old, dangerous life built in war, speed, and treacherous lies.

He's dancing on top of the glistening water, dressed in his best clothing nowadays. Smooth silk the shopkeeper had just _insisted_ he buy. They flow on him, so elegant, so fitting, so _beautiful_ – just as everyone agreed - but yet it's so _not_ him. His heart aches every time the silk brushes like soft kisses against his pale, calloused skin.

This isn't him. This isn't what he wants. He is a warrior, and fashionable clothes are nothing but a needless luxury for him.

This world is too perfect; too clean, he's guilty to say. There is no war, no pain, no feeling of lost. It is perfect; it _should _be perfect, but he just can't help hating it.

He just wants to go home.

He can pretend he isn't hurting. He can recite polite greeting to the villagers; pleasantly assist the old folks without a single grumble; cheerfully wave to the children running by. He can even pull up that inane façade without an audience. And heck, he _does_, because perhaps smiling aimlessly, _stupidly_, might've been the only thing keeping him sane.

He doesn't feel human anymore; he is a mere patchwork of a doll stitched together from ragged scraps of hope and belief he could find. And as the days went by, he was losing more than he could find. One day, Kakashi knows, the last single scrap will catch the sailing wind and escape where he'll never be able to find it again.

But until then, Kakashi can only dance upon the lake. He knows his body is moving unconsciously now, his mismatched eyes glowing in a distanced gaze as he's seeing not the present, but instead the past, and what he no longer had.

Is it sad that despite the pure, peaceful world he is in, all he can wish for is his war-ridden village? Is it bad that his heart aches so deeply for something he can never get? Is it bad that he knows that the moment he stops trying he would lose all hope, and his heart - his fragile heart - would break into a thousand pieces; broken, shattered. For he is nothing here.

Is it so bad that all he wants is to go home?

**x**

"I can get you back." Madara says, what seems like a thousand impossible days after Kakashi had lost all hope. The Uchiha's eye behind that cold swirling orange mask is gleaming like crystallised evil.

Kakashi doesn't answer; he has no reason to doubt him. Madara managed to make it here after all. "I've told you the conditions, Kakashi. Your choice?" Madara asks. But really, that is no question. Because he knows Kakashi. He knew Kakashi's decision before the man even heard his choices. If there is anything Kakashi is, he isn't selfish. And he will never risk the lives of the people, the civilians, the innocents, no matter the little connection he has with them, just for himself.

"I won't let you - won't help you - destroy this world just to get back to my own." Kakashi answers softly and unnecessarily.

"So be it."

Their battle is short. The peaceful environment has changed Kakashi more than he would've liked to admit. He is out of shape and his senses are dull. Madara gains the upper hand much quicker than Kakashi expects. And by then, it's much too late.

Kakashi can feel his body falling as a strong punch lands in his stomach. His head and back explodes into pain as he's slammed into the lake he'd watched so carefully for what seemed like eternities now.

The stinging ice cold water envelopes him; heavy, wet gravity dragging him down. His open mouth swallows mouthfuls of toxic water, filling his collapsing lungs.

Splotches of lights explode behind his closed eyes for the longest time. Then, there is black; deep, horrid black of oblivion as Kakashi decides to gives up. He's had enough; he can't lie to himself any longer. He can't force himself to live in this dreadful lie of a life. _He just wants to go home._

And that's when he hears it. The familiar voices calling to him; the voices he'd longed for every sleepless night in his dreams.

Kakashi's ears twitch and his mouth quirks into a peaceful smile on their own accord.

He longs to ignore the stinging of the icy water and open his eyes to fill his senses in what he's certain will be orange, pink, and blue. Oh, and don't forget the green; the green, green, green of his beloved Konoha.

But he can't.

He can't do it. He knows he will not be able to stand the disappointment that will come when he realises it's nothing more than a wistful dream of a hallucination due to his half dead-ridden state.

So, he merely lets the voices continue to echo around him instead, eyes tightly closed. Already he feels warmer inside. It is an unnatural warmth, contrasting the stinging cold water, _and he absolutely loves it_. He feels warm; he feels whole. He finally feels like himself once more.

And in his last moments, Kakashi can't help thinking to himself, "Oh God, please, before I die and leave this mortal plane, please let these voices be more than just my aching imagination. Please at the very least let me die peacefully _in the one place I've_ _ever_ _called home_."

* * *

_A/N: Hopefully the fic didn't seem too compressed. It was originally going to be a multi-chapter fic, but then I got bored of the plot and condensed the whole story into three pages of writing instead. _


End file.
